


And the Meek Shall Inherit

by Cat_Moon



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon killed Blake... only he's not dead, and there are consequences for all actions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed the first two series of B7; I hated the last two. No happy endings here.
> 
> Knowledge of the episodes is necessary to understand some references in this story.

He sat up gingerly, nursing very bruised ribs.

"I didn't tell you to test the device like _that_ ," a sardonic voice said from the doorway.

Roj Blake turned to see Enya watching him.  "I didn't plan on it," he told her, a flash of non-physical pain crossing his face. "In any case, you can be pleased to know your latest creation works."

"It might be the single most useful thing anyone's ever invented, the way things are going around here."

"Is the area secure again?"  Blake's voice fell like a lead weight onto the floor.

Enya nodded, coming over to stand behind him and putting a supporting hand on his shoulder. "For now. And the prisoners are in holding, as you requested."

"Are they?" he asked. "Prisoners?"

"You tell me."

Blake dropped his head into his hands, rubbing the temples that were beginning to throb. "I wish I knew," he replied with a sigh.

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I don't know that, either. I'm not even sure what I'm going to do with myself.

Enya's other hand joined its mate, beginning to massage the tense muscles in Blake's shoulder. "While things are quiet, you could do with a bath," she told him, wrinkling her nose teasingly. "A nice hot soak will help."

"I'll hold you to your word," Blake said, rising with a groan.

 

* * *

 

Vila Restal was, to put it mildly, amazed when he found himself opening his eyes. He blinked several times and struggled to sit up, every muscle in his body screaming from abuse.  "Ohhh..." he moaned, leaning against the stone wall behind him for support. "I'm _alive_ ," he murmured in awe. "Why am I alive?"

"Shut up, Vila," Dayna's disembodied voice groused.

Vila blinked one final time, and his surroundings came into focus. Given the miraculous fact that he was still breathing, he was unsurprised to find himself in a cell with the others. Dayna and Soolin were sitting morosely against the wall, Tarrant was by the door, and Avon was sequestered in one corner, ignoring the others.

"What happened?" Vila asked in confusion.

Tarrant came over and gripped his arm in a painful grasp, yanking him towards the cell door. "I thought that was apparent, even to you. They used a high-energy stun on us, so they could save us for interrogation."

"Oh, I don't like the sound of that."

"Then get to work," Tarrant ordered, gesturing to the door of the cell.

As Vila worked on the lock, he also struggled to bring his recalcitrant mind into working order. It all came back to him easy enough, though he wished he could forget. They were on Gauda Prime, to find Blake. But Avon had killed Blake...then they'd gotten captured by Federation troops.

His hands shook slightly as he remembered watching Blake fall, his last words, Avon's name. The sick realization as Arlen revealed that Blake hadn't betrayed them after all. Everything had happened so fast...Vila wasn't even sure whether he'd believed what Tarrant had said about Blake or not. But Avon had. It took a lot to surprise Vila these days, and he couldn't say he was surprised that Avon had killed Blake, under the circumstances. But Blake was innocent.

Vila glanced at Avon, who sat as still as a statue, his features carved in stone and completely unreadable. And was suddenly furious, as if years of anger and indignation had finally bubbled to the surface, tired of being sublimated under mild-mannered good cheer.

Vila addressed him in a mild tone. "Well, congratulations, Avon. You really did it this time. Outdid yourself, if I do say so myself. Maybe they'll let you watch us all die, that ought to be a treat for you."

Other than a blink of eye, Avon made no sign he'd heard. It was Tarrant who spoke up, impatiently. "If you get on with that lock, they won't get the chance."

"So you say." Forcing his hand steady, Vila tried to ignore the aches in his body and cultivate his delicate touch to free them. Depending on him again, they were. Wasn't the first time, although to hear them talk you'd think he was nothing more than a burden they put up with grudgingly.

At least Blake had appreciated him a bit.

 

* * *

 

Enya was right, he could feel the hot water soothing his midsection within moments of sinking into the bath.  Blake watched the steam rise from the tub, remembering with chilling clarity how he'd been thinking of removing the force vest only minutes before all hell had broken loose. If he had...

_Avon would have killed me._

Blake closed his eyes in anguish, the scene replaying in his mind, just like he knew it would for the rest of his life. He'd grown almost as suspicious as his former computer tech in the years since leaving Liberator, but after everything, the one person he'd still trusted without question was Kerr Avon. He could--almost--understand Avon's thinking he'd betrayed them, considering the evidence. But shooting him without even letting him explain... No, that had been the rudest shock of all.

Add Arlen to the equation, and what little strength he'd been living on deserted him like the steam from the water he was soaking in. He had no idea what force had kept him going on, given him enough energy to fight, to keep on believing these past two years.

_Yes, you do. It was Avon._ The hope--the belief--that one day Avon would be at his side again.

Unwillingly, Blake saw again Avon's face in the tracking gallery. It had been burned into his memory while he was doing his convincing swan dive to the floor. Which was an instant's decision born from a perverse wound: having committed the unbelievable deed, Avon deserved to be slapped in the face with the stark consequences, in graphic detail. There was no denying the anguish on Avon's face while he was pulling the trigger. But he'd done it anyway. Three times. He was now a stranger to Blake.

An unpredictable stranger.

 

* * *

 

"Got it!" Vila crowed five minutes later, bringing everyone to their feet except Avon.

"You're losing your touch, Vila," Tarrant said. "My grandmother could've opened it quicker."

"Then ask _her_ next time," Vila replied in a curt tone. He ached even more now, and he was in no mood for anyone's complaining.

The four of them cautiously approached the door, glancing back at Avon, who hadn't moved from his spot.

"Avon--let's go!" Tarrant hissed.

Avon finally looked at them, and Vila wanted to look away. His eyes weren't their usual mad glitter. They looked dead. Which was even more frightening somehow.

"You go on without me," Avon told them without emotion. "I've gone as far as I'm going."

"What are you talking about?!" Soolin demanded, throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder at their escape route.

"This is no time to wallow in guilt, we've got to get out of here," Dayna insisted. Vila could almost read her mind. They'd lost people before...  _Cally_...  and no one had let it dull their survival instincts, especially not Avon. But Dayna didn't realize the difference.

This was Blake.

"Let him stay if he wants," Vila said in a hard tone which brought their eyes onto him. "We don't have time for this."

"Vila's right," Tarrant agreed after another moment's pause. Dayna threw him a questioning look. "The door is open now, I expect he'll eventually come out of his sulk and save himself."

Vila didn't think Avon had any intentions of doing that, but he said nothing. He'd finally run out of caring.

"Let's go!" Soolin insisted.

But they hadn't been fast enough. Before they could take another step towards the door, they heard footsteps coming down the hall. Tarrant closed the door again, and motioned to the others to stand  
back. Crouching away from the door, they waited.

A guard appeared a moment later, training a gun on them through the bars of the old fashioned cell. Four more stood at attention in the hallway.  _Old fashioned_ , Vila thought, _but still damn hard to break out of--and a lot harder for your prisoners to get the drop on you._

"You're unarmed and outnumbered, so I wouldn't try anything futile if I were you," the guard told them. "I'm here for the one called Vila."

Vila's eyes opened wide and he tried to shrink back into the wall. Unfortunately, the six sets of eyes that shifted to him were like a beacon.

"Let's go Vila," the guard said with a trace of amusement. "The Boss has requested your presence specially."

"Specially?" Vila gulped. "I'm flattered, really I am, but, see, I'm really not all that special."

"He thinks you are," the guard said with a grin. He waved the gun casually. "So let's get on with it, I'm late for lunch."

With the gun gesturing at his head, Vila's only choice was to comply. He willed the impulsive Tarrant to behave himself, he was in no condition to cope with any suicidal heroes.

Oddly, the guard just smiled when the door swung open at a touch. After ushering Vila out, he closed it again soundly, making sure it was locked again. "Without Vila, I trust it'll take you a bit longer next time. And maybe by then, he'll be ready to see you, too."

 

* * *

 

"That was odd," Dayna commented, exchanging curious glances with Tarrant and Soolin after the guards had left with Vila.

"They obviously know we can escape--and they don't care," Soolin concluded. "Which makes me very uncomfortable about escaping."

"This whole thing is odd, somehow," Tarrant added, brow wrinkling in puzzlement. "What do you make of it, Avon?" he asked, turning.

Avon continued to ignore them.

 

* * *

Yes, Vila _had_ seen a lot in the past years...but when he was brought into what looked like some sort of conference room, he realized he wasn't quite as impervious as he thought.

A big, oval table took up the middle of the room, a dozen chairs around it. A man was standing on the other side, his back to the entourage.  "Leave him and go," the man told the guards, who obeyed. Oddly, the voice sounded familiar...

When the man turned, Vila gasped aloud and held out his hands to steady himself. "Blake?" he breathed in disbelief. The man standing in front of him wasn't the grubby, scarred figure he'd seen in the tracking gallery...but there was no question of his identity.

Blake broke into a wide smile, moving to clap him on the back. "Vila!" he began in a jovial voice. "It's good to see you again!"

"It is? I mean...but I saw--"

"I know what you saw," Blake interrupted him quickly. "Appearances can be deceiving." He gestured to one of the plush chairs, and the glass of liquid on the table. Vila could almost smell the soma from where he stood. "Sit down and have a drink with me. I brought you here to answer all your questions." Blake took a chair across from him, pouring a glass of soma for himself.

Vila sat, still wondering what to make of the bizarre turn of events. So he _was_ still shockable. At least he was reasonably sure he wasn't in the hands of the Federation. He sipped at the drink, enjoying its invigorating flavor. He felt better already. "I've been in some unusual situations, but this one takes it."

"You are not a prisoner, Vila. And as soon as the others--Dayna, Soolin and Tarrant--are cleared, they won't be, either."

"I suppose our grand entrance didn't exactly inspire trust," Vila said ruefully. Not that it much mattered to him at the moment. When he was shot and felt himself falling, supposedly to his death, he'd decided that he was through with this group once and for all. Let them fend for themselves, Vila Restal had had enough. It was well past time to look out for number one. Blake seemed to be welcoming _him_ into  
safety, and that was just fine with Vila.

And if by some chance it wasn't really Blake...well, just one more time, for old time's sake, he wanted to believe in the man before him.

"We have a scientist here with us, she's worked out an interesting device called a force vest," Blake explained. "It offers protection against most hand weapons...but not without side effects, I'm afraid," he said, rubbing his stomach. "It also simulates blood and a wound, so enemies will be convinced they've succeeded. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to keep up the illusion."

"What about that woman with you?"

"No illusion, Arlen was a Federation officer." Blake's face darkened and when he spoke, it was as if to himself. "I was so sure she checked out..." He snapped himself out of it and looked at Vila again. "She's dead."

Vila knew it was a bit off the track, but there was another question burning in him. "What about your eye?" he asked, looking into the now unmarred left eye.

Blake chuckled. "This?" he asked, pulling out a fleshy-looking piece from a pocket of his typical billowing clothes and holding it up. "Better to play the hardened, vicious bounty hunter with. And I'm a bit undercover as well, can't afford to have people recognize me _too_ soon."

Fairly logical-sounding ideas, but a bit on the extreme side. Certainly not the foolhardy Blake Vila remembered. "Is all this really necessary?"

"How many times have you been betrayed lately?" Blake asked almost offhandedly.

"I see," Vila replied, meaning it.

"I'm sorry I can't welcome your friends with open arms just yet," the rebel leader apologized. "Soon."

"That's all right," Vila said, bolstered by the booze and Blake's presence. It occurred to him that while it had been a rough two years on the Liberator with Blake, it was a damn sight better than the last two. Towards the end he'd feared for his life more than ever, and doubted his 'friends' would rescue him if need arose. He was forever bullied, treated like dirt. Possibly the memories were distorted by time, but he recalled the ribbing on Blake's ship as more in the nature of good-hearted joking. With the new group, it seemed an awfully lot like genuinely cruel abuse.

And he knew with chilling certainty that if he'd died, no one would mourn him. "Cally's dead," he said abruptly.

Blake's face reflected his obvious pain at the news. "I'm sorry to hear it," he said. "She...was a good person. Jenna died too, awhile back." His eyes rested on Vila warmly. "Too many friends..." he murmured, to himself again.

"We're the only ones who care," Vila almost spat, feeling the soma churn around in his empty stomach, making him loose enough to care even less about what he said. He longed for what he now thought of as the 'good old days': Everyone missing Gan when he died. Blake feeling so guilty that he'd considered leaving them. Blake's blatant pain when he'd had to abandon Cally after they'd gotten the Federation  
cipher--and his insistence that he go back to rescue her, even though Travis was waiting for him.

Maybe he was manipulative, idealistic to a foolish degree, as Avon always accused. But Blake cared. And right now, that looked pretty good to this battered thief's soul.

Blake said nothing, just watched him in sympathy. Vila felt as if something were collapsing inside of him, years of tension, crumbling into defeat. "Keep them locked up for all I care," he said. "It's not like they ever did anything for me. Except order me around. And throw me to the wolves at every opportunity. And give me all the dirty jobs, and make fun of me." He took another swallow of soma. "Some people don't know who their friends are." He ran out of steam and slumped, staring into his glass.

"Tell me, Vila," Blake's comforting voice said gently. "I want to know everything that happened since I left the Liberator."

Vila looked up with a bitter smile on his lips. "Blake, have I got a story for you..."

The promise he made after the terrifying incident in the shuttle came back to him, where Avon would have tossed him out of the airlock. _I won't forget, Avon..._ Perhaps people who measure their worth by egocentric opinions of intelligence and brawn, would do well to remember that a lowly, worthless dog, kicked enough times, may eventually bite back.

Vila began to talk.

 

* * *

 

"Has he been warned?"

"No." Mildly raised eyebrows studied him. "I thought it might be...more fun this way." His own eyes were hard, determined.

A glass was raised towards him. "Avon would be proud of you."

They shared knowing smiles, sipping their drinks.

 

* * *

 

When the guards came to escort them, Avon didn't have a choice in the matter. He was dragged roughly to his feet and forced along with the others.

"Where are you taking us?" Tarrant demanded as they were prodded along the hall and up into another level.

"To talk with the boss," the guard replied. "Don't worry, he'll show more mercy on you than your friend here," he poked Avon, hard, "did Roj Blake."

"Nice move," Dayna muttered disgustedly at Avon under her breath.

After herding the weary group of rebels into the room like cattle, the guards left, although were undoubtedly waiting just outside the closed door.

The last thing any of them expected to see was Vila seated like a king, with a plate of food and glass of soma in front of him--next to a man who bore a startling resemblance to the one they'd all seen Avon gun down only a few hours earlier.

"Blake..." Avon murmured, face going a chalky white as he nearly collapsed.

Tarrant caught him with a hand at his elbow. "Well, this is a surprise," he said with a sardonic smile. But Blake wasn't paying him any attention; his eyes were on Avon, as Avon's were riveted on him.

"Sit down and have a drink, mates," Vila offered with a wave of his hand, gesturing to the four glasses that were set around the table.

Avon seemed to fall into the nearest chair, and the others followed suit. It was impossible to tell what was going on in his mind, his face remained neutral, though still pale.

Blake turned his attention back to the others, and began pointedly ignoring Avon. "You'll have to excuse the inhospitable treatment, but you'll understand that I wasn't treated too friendly either, upon your arrival."

"What kind of game is this? We saw you die," Dayna blurted accusingly.

Blake grimaced. "Sorry to disappoint Avon, but I'm quite alive."

No one but Vila saw the almost imperceptible reaction from Avon at the words. Only one would have cared, and it wasn't Vila.

Blake nodded. "It was a good performance then, I'm pleased to hear it."

"I'm beginning to understand what's going on," Tarrant said. "But if you hadn't gone through all these elaborate security checks in the first place--"

"How many times have you found yourselves betrayed by someone you were sure you could trust, just in the last six months?" Blake asked him with a piercing gaze. Of course it was a rhetorical question, since Vila had given a full report. "You may question my zealousness in screening potential freedom fighters, but I'm still alive. And until now, I haven't had any serious breaches." His gaze flickered ever so briefly  
to Avon. "One of you must be a jinx."

"I'm beginning to agree," Dayna muttered.

"All right," Tarrant said. "So you can't trust anyone. And you rigged a fake death to further test us."

"No," Blake told him firmly. "I just happened to be wearing the... protection. I assure you, it's only a fortunate accident that I'm alive right now. I wear it in the field, to give myself an edge. Along with the fake scar, it presents a pretty formidable picture."

Avon had perked up at the recent words, seeming to regain a bit of his control. "Can we be sure of what you say?" he sneered.

Blake ignored his tone as he had hundreds of times before, but there was something different about it this time. "I'm not really interested in what you think at this point," he said.

"I don't mean to be abrupt--but what do you want with us?" Soolin asked.

Blake leaned back, steepling his fingers. "As you might have gathered, I was waiting for you to arrive. I wanted you to join me. I can't divulge too much information at the moment, but this planet is not what it appears to be."

Tarrant leaned forward. "If you don't trust us, we already know too much. What do you plan to do with us then? Kill us?"

"I'm fighting the Federation, not you, Tarrant. I've done nothing to you but use reasonable caution in letting you inside this base. You repaid me by almost getting me killed. If you hadn't run, I would have told you everything."

"And now you don't trust us," Soolin reiterated.

"That's not necessarily true. You are not prisoners, in fact, my offer still holds. With certain conditions."

"What conditions?" Dayna said warily.

"You and Soolin are both welcome to stay if you like. Vila tells me you're both skillful fighters. And I hear you've inherited your father's scientific mind, Dayna. You might want to devote some of your time to working with our own scientific staff. We could use someone who's an expert on weaponry."

"Sounds almost too good to be true, and two years of running with Avon have taught me to be very cautious," Dayna told him. "What are your conditions?"

Blake's gaze turned to Tarrant. "I don't want him here, for one." He addressed the pilot. "Tarrant, you're too hot headed, you react before you think. Although I will say, you do have some admirable qualities--like the way I hear you put Avon in his place a few times. But you have an attitude problem. I don't want or need that in my ranks."

"So you haven't responded to my charm; I'm crushed, because I've certainly been spell-bound by yours," Tarrant replied sarcastically. "Are you sure it's not a grudge because you blame me for what Avon did?"

Blake tipped his head. "I concede a grudge, but it has nothing to do with Avon, and it's got rationality to back it up. Tell me, Del, do the others know about Dev Tarrant?" Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Avon's eyes widen slightly, then narrow, and focus on the pilot. "Dev Tarrant," he explained to them, "was the man who betrayed our people when I first organized the Freedom Party. The man who was responsible for the deaths of twenty of my friends. And again when I re-joined the fight after my mind-wipe. He was the one who turned us in--the one I saw at my trial."

"My half brother," Tarrant answered the gazes that had turned to him, confirming Blake's words. "Am I to be held accountable for blood? Perhaps you'd like to kill me, just to settle the account. After all, I was also a Federation space captain. You can't have anyone of _my_ dubious loyalties in your ranks, even if I do hate the Federation as much as you do."

"Servelan had his brother Deeta killed," Dayna added quietly.

Blake scrutinized Tarrant thoughtfully.

"He also slept with her," Soolin fired off into the silence.

Avon snapped his fingers in mock disappointment. "You almost had him there for a moment, Tarrant," he commented with a malicious quirk of his lips. "Perhaps someone should tell fearless leader _when_."

Blake leaned forward. "Before or after your brother died?" he asked levelly. When no answer was forthcoming, he stared at Tarrant. "You slept with the woman who had your own brother killed?" he uttered in patent disbelief.

Instead of answering, Tarrant lunged at Avon. Dayna, between them, held him back. "I loved my brother," he spat at the tech. "Which is more than I can say for you, you cold-hearted bastard!"

Avon just smiled.

"I'm glad to see _your_ crew is one big, happy, loyal family," Blake commented with a smirk that was unlike the old Blake. "I'm in awe. Definitely impressed with what I've heard and seen so far."

Avon's eyes flashed for just a split second, but he remained silent.

When Vila chuckled, Soolin used him to change the subject. "So Dayna and I are in if we want, Tarrant isn't. And what about Vila?"

Blake put an arm on Vila's shoulder. "He's more than welcome to stay with me, and he's already decided to. Which brings up another condition. If you stay, there's one thing you must know. I insist that _all_ my people are treated decently, with respect. And loyalty."

"All right, we're all alight with suspense--get to the real $10,000 question. What about Avon?" Tarrant asked, proving once again Blake's assessment that he had a smart mouth that was larger and faster than his brain.

"Oh, I saved that for last," Blake drawled, rising from his chair and going around to stand next to Avon's.

Avon didn't look at him, but his shoulders stiffened to Blake's satisfaction. He was feeling something, after all. Hopefully it was only the beginning.

Blake smiled, leaning over Avon's chair. His voice took the tone of quoting something. "Figureheads aren't difficult to come by, any _idiot_  can be one. Have I got the quote correct? I do want to get this straight. Am I to understand that you finally decided to come here, so that you could use me as a figurehead _in my own revolution_? Was that the general idea?" he asked sweetly.

The minute glare Avon sent in Vila's direction didn't ruffle his feathers in the least; he continued sipping at his drink with a small, satisfied smile. Revenge was sweet, after all. And way past due.

Blake continued. "What was the plan, Avon? Did you expect I'd come crawling back to you on my knees, grateful to you for offering to rescue me from this brutal planet? Oh, but you did think I was in a mess here, didn't you? How generous of you to think of me. After Zukan died, naturally."

To the surprise of some of them, Avon remained passive, accepting the words as blows, rigid in his chair, eyes unflinching. It wasn't the Avon they were used to seeing either. This Avon was too quite.

Blake continued.  "Someone you could _use_ to unify this rebel alliance of yours? Which, by the way--tell me how it's going. How many of your latest brilliant schemes have you pulled off, my dear Avon? But it's the thought that counts, isn't it? And I have to admit, you did serve a purpose bumbling around out there. You really kept Servalan on her toes--and away from me. I was free to do my work here without concerning myself with her." He bowed slightly. "Thank you so much for that unwitting aide."

Avon still didn't respond, but an ominous tension hung in the air.

Blake shook his head.  "No, Avon will not be staying. And if you get any ideas about revenge on me for not letting you kill me, Avon, I'd think twice. You see, there were witnesses to what you did in the tracking gallery. You know how rumor starts, it's already spreading off-planet that you tried to kill Roj Blake. The rebels won't exactly welcome you with open arms, I'm afraid." He leaned closer and spoke more quietly. "You have no where to go, Avon. Your base was destroyed, your ship is gone. The Federation wants you, and the resistance won't shelter you."

"You can't just throw him to the wolves!" Dayna complained.

"I'm doing nothing, he did it to himself."

"That's not the same compassionate Blake I've heard so much about," Dayna persisted.

"Not from Avon, I'm sure," Blake retorted. "No I'm not. But at least I'm not insane. I don't try to push my crewmates out of airlocks to save my own life." His fierce gaze went from her back to Avon. "But you know the thing that I think gets to me most?" he addressed the room in general, then leaned closer to Avon's ear, supporting himself with his hands on the arms of the chair. "For two years I tried to get you to believe in me, to work with me instead of against me. You gave me hell, fought me tooth and nail every day, sneered in disgust at what you called my idealistic foolishness for believing in the rebellion, told me you hated me for it and wanted to be free of me and my Cause--and when I gave you what you wanted, left my ship and my crew to you... _then_ after I left you decided to become Resistance King and did the same things--and worse--that you accused me of! And you have the audacity to come recruiting me as _your_ figurehead! Have I missed something, Avon? Is that what you really wanted all the long?"

Avon got up very slowly, to face Blake. He locked gazes with him. " _I did it for you_ ," he growled with an intensity that reverberated through the whole room. Then, without another word, he turned and left.

Silence followed his wake.

"He does know how to make a theatrical exit, doesn't he?" Soolin finally observed, dryly.

One of the guards stuck his head into the door. "What do you want us to do with him, Boss?"

Blake stood there for long moments, while the others watched and waited for his response. "Take him to the visitor's quarters," he eventually said. The guard left, and Blake took his chair again.

"What if we said it was all or none?" Dayna asked tentatively, going back to their conversation.

Regaining his former composure, Blake raised an eyebrow. "You're really all that fond of each other? Hard to tell, I must say. All those tears spilled for Cally's death," he said looking at Vila.

"I never met her," Soolin said.

"You didn't sound broke up, when I'd been knocked out and you were asking if I was dead," Vila spat at her. "Like you were asking about the weather, it was."

"This whole thing is ridiculous!" Tarrant proclaimed.

"Is it?" Blake asked. "Do you really suppose I'll take just anyone into this operation? I'm not that much of a fool, regardless of what Avon might have told you."

Dayna ran a weary hand over her face. "Look, we're all tired, hurt, and not thinking clearly. Why don't we postpone this until we've rested."

Blake nodded. "I believe we've come to the end of our chat anyway. You'll have twenty-four hours to decide whether you are leaving or staying. Tarrant and Avon will be allowed to stay until we can provide transportation and a destination for them. I don't know what form that will take yet. If you step outside the door, my guards will show you to comfortable quarters."

As they filed out, Tarrant turned to Vila. "You're really staying here?" he asked.

Vila smiled amiably. "Blake's earned my loyalty. All you ever did was push me around."

"That's not the jovial, friendly Blake I've been hearing about," Dayna commented to Soolin on their way out.

When the door was closed and he was alone again, Blake slumped in his chair wearily, burying his face in his hands.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Vila let himself into Avon's temporary quarters, the tech was lying on his back on the bed, eyes open and looking at the ceiling.

He glided over to the bed, affecting a sunny smile. "Hello, Avon."

Avon turned his head and looked at him, venomously. "You certainly filled Blake's head with a lot of--"

"Truth," Vila said firmly. "Yes, I told him everything. The truth. And why shouldn't I? He's not the enemy."

Avon went back to watching the ceiling.

"You know, you'd better start kissing up to Blake, fast. I think you could get him to forgive you, you know. If you tried hard enough, and if you could bring yourself to be sincere for once in your life."

"It's you who are so adept at kissing up to Blake," Avon told him acidly. "Just because you and the others made a habit of it, is no reason to think I shall follow."

"You were a bastard then, you're a bastard now, you've always been a bastard. God only knows why you even felt what little loyalty you did to Blake in the first place." Avon went back to what he was so good at, ignoring people. "You idiot!" Vila said, shaking his shoulders. "It's all over. This is your last chance, if you blow this..."

"What do you care?" Avon asked reasonably.

"Maybe I don't hold grudges till the death, like you do. Maybe there's more humanity in this fifth grade Delta ignorant than in your rotting soul."

Vila made as if to leave, then turned back and pressed a gun into Avon's hand. "Why don't you give up the coward's way out and do it the right way for a change. Just put the gun to your head and pull the trigger--the way a real Alpha would," he spat, then rose and strolled away. He turned at the door to find Avon watching him. "Oh, of course I took out the energy clip," he said with a smile. "Wouldn't want this to be a repeat of Maloodor, would we?" he said mildly. "I'm sure you can find one if you really want to finish the job." With that parting shot, he left the room.

 

* * *

 

After Vila left, Avon stared at the gun for a long time. The suggestion _was_ worth considering, even briefly. He still mourned that one moment of complete peace, when he'd been standing over Blake's body, knowing he'd be dead in a moment. That it would finally be over.

It had been a rude awakening to regain consciousness and find it wasn't so. He might have pulled the trigger then. When he thought that Blake was truly dead.

Concealing his emotions when confronted with a very alive Blake was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He was still exhausted from the effort expended. The wild elation, crushing guilt, and blinding sorrow he had experienced was like a chain reaction inside of him, he'd barely contained the meltdown and explosion. He wasn't used to feeling so much at once, indeed, to feeling anything at all.

"Damn you, Blake," he murmured.

Vila's other suggestion, about going to Blake, was out of the question. They would undoubtedly consider it a matter of pride, but in his weakened condition, Avon was unable to deny the regretful truth. He wouldn't go to Blake because he'd failed him. Worse, betrayed him, his trust. Blake's faith in him, unbeknownst to anyone, had been the single most important thing in Avon's life once. Now, it was a mocking taunt, a reminder of his failure. The truth was a bitter folly; the one person in the entire universe that Kerr Avon truly cared about-- even over himself--was Roj Blake.

If that wasn't enough to keep him from going to Blake, the specter of further rejection made the prospect an unpleasant one. He couldn't give Blake the opportunity to continue his barrage of accusations...it would surely finish him.

Was this what it had felt like to be Blake? he suddenly wondered. To reach out the hand of caring--and have it bitten off repeatedly?

There was an outside chance that he hadn't treated Blake very well when he'd had him. And then Blake had finally had enough and gone. Avon was left to learn the hardest lesson of his life. To realize, too late, his mistake.

Somewhere along the line, everything had fallen apart. And he hadn't even realized how badly until now. When everything was gone and he was finally alone with the ruined remains of his life. Of his soul.

He put the gun under his pillow. No, direct suicide was not an option now. Besides, with the situation he was in, he wouldn't live long anyway. Satisfied with that, he settled back down to get some rest.

 

* * *

 

"Blake," Tarmek was saying, "We can't be sure Arlien didn't get a message to the Federation. They could be on their way right now."

"Then it's time to show them this planet will not be taken."

"Do you think we're ready?"

"We have one thing on our side. Arlien never knew how many of us there are. They'll be expecting an easy job. And I'm officially dead. Again," he smiled ruefully.

"Okay. I just wish there was some way to know what's going on out there."

Blake smiled and held up a square, plastic key. "There is."

 

* * *

 

"What do you think?" Soolin asked Dayna. They'd been at the base for almost twenty-four hours now. A decision would have to be made soon.

Dayna considered the question. "I spent time with Enya today. She's been doing some interesting work, and it would be nice to concentrate on research more than fighting for a change."

"In other words, you're thinking of staying with Blake?"

"What else is there to do? We no longer have any base, any ship, and Avon's alliance is history."

"It wasn't much of an alliance in the first place," Soolin remarked honestly. "But if we did, shouldn't we feel guilty?"

"What for? How many times has Avon almost gotten us killed? And how many more chances are we going to give him? Tarrant's not much better. I know Avon saved my life, but Blake's right--he's changed. It would be kind of nice to be around a leader who isn't so unstable for a change."

"Isn't he? What do we really know about Blake?" Soolin asked.

"I thought you were the one supposed to be on his side, and I was the skeptical one?" Dayna said with a grin.

"I'm on _my_ side," Soolin replied. "Always have been. You--you've just been taken in by the lab.

"My father would be pleased, I think," Dayna murmured. She rose from her chair to pour two glasses of soma, handing one to Soolin. "According to Vila, Blake's no picnic but he'd not nearly as bad as Avon was. And the bottom line is, if we want to have any part in fighting the Federation, this is the only opportunity we have."

"It is rather ironic, this being the planet I grew up on."

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a part in claiming it for the rebellion?" Dayna asked her.

"Vila _does_ have a well-honed survival instinct," Soolin said speculatively. 

"While Avon seems to have a death wish lately," Dayna added.

"We can always give it a try and opt out later if we want. Can't we?"

Dayna nodded. "Blake's very adamant about that aspect."

"Do you think we should try and get him to let the others stay too?"

"If Avon almost killed you, would you be very quick to welcome him back?"

"You have a point, Dayna."

"And Blake's right, Avon brought this on himself. What do we really owe him?"

"And Tarrant?"

"Tarrant can take care of himself," Dayna said firmly.

"But he _is_ good looking..." Soolin sighed regretfully.

"So's Tarmek, and plenty of other men here."

"You have a point." Soolin raised her glass of soma. "Here's to new beginnings."

 

* * *

 

Blake stood in the clearing, watching the ship take off into the night sky. It's beauty was a bittersweet sight. Second thoughts were lost in the velvet darkness above. 

"For awhile there I didn't think you'd really send him away," Vila's soft voice broke into his solitude. The man was still good--Blake hadn't heard him approach.

"Neither did I," Blake replied, fighting down the sense of loss. Watching that ship was like watching a piece of himself fly away. But he'd had no choice. Had he?

"Look's like you could use a friend and some soma--not necessarily in that order," Vila told him with a smile, pulling a bottle and two glasses from behind his back.

They sat down together on the dried, yellow grass, sharing the soma in companionable silence for long moments. The planet, for once, was quiet. The area, close to the base, was relatively safe and left them free to relax.

"The thing I regret most is not saying goodbye," Blake said after a time. In fact, it was killing him.

"Why didn't you?" Vila asked, no censer in his voice, just concern.

"I...couldn't."

"You were afraid you'd ask him to stay?"

Blake sighed. "I was afraid I wouldn't. I never have been good at goodbyes."

"I remember."

"Cut old ties, start anew without looking back. That was the way I believed was best."

"Until Avon?"

Blake peered at Vila's face in the darkness. He didn't remember the thief being quite that perceptive before. "Avon...was different." A wealth of meaning in three words. "Or maybe I really am a fool," he sighed.

"People in love generally tend to be," Vila agreed quietly.

Blake's eyes snapped up to Vila's.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"There was never any--" Blake faltered, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

Vila nodded. "It's better that way, under the circumstances."

"How do you know so much about it?" Blake asked. "Don't tell me you've also harbored secret feelings for our arrogant genius?"

Vila was taken aback. "Avon? I'd rather sleep with a snake! Come to think of it, not much difference there..." he shrugged sheepishly, as if just realizing his faux pas. "I didn't mean any criticism of your judgment."

"No offense taken, Vila. I know my judgment where he's concerned has always been faulty." Blake took a deep breath of air. The faint scent of spent weapons lingered in the atmosphere, as well as the scent of smoke. But it was still better than the recycled air in a space ship. "I've lived without him once and I can do it again, I know that. Just being morose."

"Then let's change the subject," Vila suggested. "New beginning and all that." He moved closer to Blake, resting a hand on his arm. "You've always been too hard on yourself. You need to have more fun in your life."

Blake's eyebrows raised in amusement. "Fun? On Gauda Prime? How do you suggest I do that?"

"There are ways of relaxing, you know," Vila answered slyly, his hand going to Blake's thigh.

Blake stared at him for a minute. "It's been a long time since I've had a proposition, but--"

"That's just the problem," Vila told him. "And before you ask, no, it's not you I've been harboring secret feelings for either. I just...I know how you feel, that's all. I know all about guilt--I still keep thinking that if I had rescued Cally first..."

"Wasn't your fault," Blake said automatically, slightly distracted by the hand that was caressing him.

"But we both are desperately in need of some caring right now, a friend. Am I right?"

"You're right," Blake said softly, moving closer to the warm body waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Avon stared out the vis-screen, watching the planet get smaller. "You didn't say goodbye this time either, you bastard," he murmured to himself.

Beside him in the seat, Tarrant didn't hear. He'd been complaining since they stepped on board. "I'm a pilot," he huffed. "It's hard for me to be just a passenger."

"We can all do to learn some new talents," Avon told him.

"I'd love to let you pilot her, Tarrant, but I'm getting paid to do it, and I'm not the kind of man to shirk my job." Karr wasn't a bad fellow to spend the trip in the company of, he was friendly and sympathetic. Held no hostility towards Blake's rejects. "You'd like her, too. Handles like a dream. We 'liberated' her from Space Rats, she's faster than almost anything."

"An early version of Dr. Plaxton's space drive probably," Avon commented.

"Don't tease," Tarrant said to Karr. The man grinned.

The destination was Space City. A place Avon had looked forward to visiting in the past. It was, he admitted, ripe with opportunity and rich in hiding places. They were told the only ship available to transport them was this modified star hopper. They would be dropped off together, whatever they decided to do after that was their business. They were also told that Blake regretted not being able to give them their own ship--there was none to be spared.

"What are you going to do down there?" Tarrant asked Avon.

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"I think we should stick together," Tarrant said hesitantly. Avon looked at him. "Safety in numbers and all that," he added with a grin. "We may end up killing each other before the Federation or rebellion does it, but I've always lived dangerously."

"I've noticed," Avon answered, his tone just barely registering as pleased. "You hang around with _me_."

Avon had barely returned his attention to the view when there was a sudden jolt. They both grabbed for purchase, eyes to the screen.

"What the hell was that?" Avon yelled.

"I don't know, there's nothing on the--" Karr's voice cut off on a cry, as a shower of sparks erupted from the console. He fell back in the seat.

Tarrant pushed him out of the pilot's chair and took over, while Avon bent to check him.

"He's dead," Avon told him. "It was a cross-feed."

"Took care of it," Tarrant replied tersely, his concentration on the controls. "The communications system is out."

"It must be an attack!" Avon said, bracing himself for another hit which never came.

"You heard what Karr said, there was nothing on the scanners."

"Check again."

Tarrant did, and they saw a squadron of Federation pursuit ships, already behind them. "Thank god they decided to leave us alone," Tarrant said with relief.

"What are the damages?" Avon asked absently.

"Only the communications, and I think you can fix it. We've got our course laid in. Come to think of it, we could go anywhere we want now," Tarrant said in pleased realization. "We have a ship. Maybe our luck is still running after all."

"Those ships were on us before we even knew they were there," Avon said as if he hadn't heard him. "They must have developed an advanced detector shield system." One Blake wouldn't know about. Those ships would be attacking before they could even get one of their own in the air. It would be a massacre.

"Let's just get the hell out of here!" Tarrant yelled.

Avon stared at screen for a moment. "We're going back," he said, with a gleam of purpose in his eye. "With our speed, we can beat them back by a fair margin."

" _What_?"

Avon smoothly pulled dead pilots gun. "If you try to stop me, I'll kill you."

"Naturally," Tarrant said, complying with Avon's 'request'.

"You did chose to stay with me," Avon pointed out with wry unconcern.

"Blake's right, you are insane."

"Undoubtedly."

After a tense few moments, Tarrant spoke again. "Avon, you forgot one thing," he said tensely.

"What?"

"Them," Tarrant replied, his eyes on the gun ships on the view screen.  Blake's ships.  "And we have no 'radio' to explain what's going on.

Things went from bad to worse in moments. They hit the distress beacon, but it was already too late. The first blast hit the small ship hard.

"We're going down again," Tarrant told him. "No teleport this time, Avon, you're riding this one all the way down. And I doubt there'll be any Roj Blake to help us from the wreckage this time."

Avon braced himself for the impact, fairly optimistic. Tarrant was a good pilot--and they'd crashed before.

 

* * *

 

Blake idly stroked Vila's hair, basking in the breeze which felt good on his heated skin. Then a fireball dropping out of the sky roused them both.

"What was that?" Vila asked.

"A ship."

"I know _that_ ," Vila said.

"Let's go take a look," Blake suggested, a vague premonition of unease in his stomach.

They jumped into a flyer and headed in the direction of the ship's course. Spying the remains of the crash, they stopped and got out, heading for it. As they got nearer, Blake realized it was the same kind of ship he'd sent Avon and Tarrant off in.

"It's them," he said, picking up his pace.

There was a gaping hole in the side. Rushing in, Blake encountered the pilot first. "He's dead," he told Vila. Karr had been a good man.

Vila was checking Tarrant. "He seems okay, just got knocked out."

It was Blake who found Avon.

His battered and bloodied body was resting half in and half out of a hole near the back. Blake pulled him outside, holding him in his arms. "Avon--Avon!"

He opened his eyes slowly, focusing on Blake with urgency. "Blake!" he shouted hoarsely. "There's something I've got to tell you."

"Save your strength," Blake told him.

"No. There is a flotilla of Federation ships headed this way. They have a new shield, you can't detect them until they're right on top of you."

"Vila," Blake snapped in alarm. "Go out to the flyer and let Deva know what's happening!" Vila ran to comply. "We've got to get you help," he murmured to Avon.

Avon grabbed his collar with all of his remaining strength. "No time."

"Don't talk like that! You'll be fine," Blake insisted. "I'm sorry Avon. This is my fault."

"No, the fault is mine. A better way to die, _this_ time," Avon said, gazing up at Blake.

Vila returned then, crouching next to them. "They're on alert," he said, eyes going to Avon in concern.

"Vila," Avon's hand reached out towards him weakly. Vila grabbed it and held on. "I don't expect you to believe me, but I _do_...regret what happened on the shuttle."

"I believe you, Avon," Vila told him. And he did. Dying men desire to expunge their sins.

"Don't talk," Blake urged, tears dropping from him to Avon's body unheeded. "Conserve your strength."

"No--there are things I must say."  Avon looked at Vila. "I've always liked you, but I wouldn't be caught dead admitting it," he chuckled faintly. "Well, perhaps I would. I'm sorry. You've been a good friend, better than I deserved."

Vila squeezed his hand. "I don't hold grudges," he said softly. "I only remember the good times. We had them, Avon, you and I."

"Space City," Avon said with a slight smile. Vila nodded. Then Avon seemed to remember something. "Tarrant?"

"He's all right," Blake assured him. "You came back to warn me," he said in a whisper.

Avon's fist loosened to caress Blake's chest with his fingers. "It was an automatic reaction," he said with a trace of smile. "I'm as surprised as you are."

Blake grinned through his tears, remembering the words said so long ago, and those days with sudden fondness. "I'm not surprised. After all, heroic rescues were always your strong suit. Hang on," he whispered as Avon grimaced in pain.

Avon shook his head. "One more thing, the most important." He fixed Blake with an intense gaze. "I love you, Roj Blake. I always have." Satisfied, he slumped back, the energy leaving him in a rush.

"I don't expect you'll believe me," Blake echoed Avon's previous words to Vila, "but I've always loved you, too."

"Are you going to say goodbye this time?" Avon asked with a touch of reproach.

Blake shook his head. "There are no goodbyes for us, Kerr, there never were. We'll be together again, you and I."

"See you in hell," Avon whispered knowingly.

Blake nodded, then bent, cradling Avon's head tenderly between his hands. His lips covered Avon's, wishing with all his soul that he could keep the breath in them forever this way. To never part, even though he now knew his time would be short. Soon, he would join his soul mate. He felt the other's sigh of content.

The last thing Avon felt was Blake's lips on his.

 

* * *

 

After settling a groggy Tarrant into the back seat of the flyer, Blake prepared to head back to base. He turned to Vila, moist eyes meeting sorrowful ones.  "Let's go win this one," he told Vila. "For Avon." 

The flyer made it's way back to base.

And victory.

 

 

**the end**

 8/22/94  
 

 


End file.
